Dragon Eggs
by LightningsShadow118
Summary: Jack Spicer, Evil Boy Genius, becomes a mother. Of a baby dragon, that is. DragCave crossover-thing
1. Dragon Eggs

**AUTHOR'S NOTES - READ THIS FIRST**

The concept is based off of a website known as dragcave(.)net. Many of Xiaolin Showdown writers whom I look up to had taken to this trend, and I couldn't ignore it. A plotbunny struck, and so this was born; hence the shortness. There will be more, by the way. Each chapter thus far is fairly short, intended so because I can focus on it much easier when the checkpoint is a short distance away. You can find more chapters at my Home Page.

...:...:...:...

Jack huffed and slung his temporarily broken Heli-bot over his shoulder. He couldn't believe he was still attending these stupid Showdowns when he wasn't even winning, but then again, he could get lucky.

As of now, however, his luck was less than favorable.

The Shen-Gong-Wu he'd just lost was all the way up in the Himalayas, on the actual mountains. It was high enough to be less-than-pleasantly chilly, but not so high that air was an issue. It _was_ high enough that if his Heli-bot busted, which it had, he'd have to either find some way to fix it without tools, or gamble with Fate and edge his way down.

About 200 feet down.

Hells, _no._

Gazing out into the almost-blinding haze surrounding the mountain's waist, Jack Spicer breathed in and sighed loudly. This was hopeless. The monks _must_ have decimated his Heli-bot on purpose, knowing full well that he'd be stranded.

Well, he wasn't going to get anywhere just standing around, was he?

I*~*I-I*~*I

He'd lived a good life, he thought as he clung to the mountain for dear life. Maybe not a satisfying one, but it had been fun. Okay, not so much fun as of _now,_ but overall, he supposed.

Jack had almost slipped, and with the wrong step he'd taken earlier, he was probably going to soon if he moved at all.

He whimpered, staring down into the haze below him that did little to calm his frayed nerves.

"Well, Jack, you've managed to royally screw yourself over on this _godforsaken mountain_ in the comedy of errors that _is_ your life, no less, with a oxymoronic predicament that both sucks _and_ blows."

Apparently, mountains are easily offended.

The giant rock slab Spicer had practically glued himself to suddenly cracked and sprang away from the mountain side, taking Jack with it.

The boy screamed bloody murder, flailing and then curling in on himself, bracing for death and trying to find his happy place as a pleasant final thought.

He didn't fall too far. Jack landed on his back hard, grunting with the wind knocked out of him. After a moment of recovering, he was then surprised; not only was he still alive, but nothing felt broken. Looking around, he seemed to have landed on a small ledge.

Glancing up, Jack shrieked and threw himself to the side as the offending slab crashed and exploded in a shower of rock chunks and dust, right where he had been.

Spicer, on his side now, gripped his seizing heart through the coat material and heaved, staring wide-eyed at the debris that could've been him.

Why was the world and everyone in it always out to get him?

It then occurred to Jack that this ledge was A) sturdy enough that the slab's impact hadn't sent the ledge crumbling away, yet, and B) jutting far out enough that he was able to land on it. Also, his back should've hit the mountainside upon rolling out of harm's way, and it hadn't.

Hesitantly, Spicer rolled over a bit more and peered over his shoulder. What he found behind him was not solid mountain, but a gaping cave.

Even more curious, Jack slowly rose up and treaded inside.

He saw, just barely peeking out of the shadows, something red.

Deep, crimson red, and round.

Jack fell to his knees and pulled the flat rocks covering the object away, then brought the surprisingly heavy, surprisingly _warm_ round thing into the light.

Jack gasped; he was holding a giant, scarlet egg.

Spicer immediately glanced back into the cave, hoping that a mother... whatever animal lays red eggs... wasn't awake or in at the moment. He didn't know what it was, but something about this egg...

It was red.

It was _unique._

He wanted it.

Carefully sliding the egg into one of his larger inner coat pockets, Jack resumed his downward and significantly shorter climb. He took care to watch his step a little closer this time, now that he had another life at stake.

The ground was in sight now; that fall must've brought him closer than he'd thought. He'd find the nearest building, and get his Heli-bot fixed up so that he could fly home and incubate the egg.

Jack couldn't wait to see the animal that would hatch from it.

I*~*I-I*~*I

Jack had made it home just before dusk settled in, and quickly crafted a very basic heating chamber for his new little friend. Once safe and sound, he withdrew his trusted laptop, made himself comfortable next to the eggs chamber, and began searching the Internet for any animals that could lay blood-red eggs roughly the size of basketballs.

He hadn't even been looking for an hour when a very familiar Heylin aura made his neck hair prickle.

Spicer snapped his computer shut and shot in front of the egg. "Chase! Chase, Chase, Chase... umm, fancy seeing you here!"

Chase, who was leaning back against the opposite wall with his arms folded and his eyes drilling a hole through Jack's skull, snorted dryly.

"No point in trying to hide you new _prize,_ Jack; I've been standing here for about five minutes."

Jack stumbled. "But, how come I didn't--?"

"Do you honestly think I cannot conceal my aura's strength at will, Spicer?" The lord questioned with a quirked brow.

Jack fell silent.

Chase uncrossed his arms and walked to the egg, where he then put his hand against the glass walls. With a spark of Heylin magic, the egg was covered in coal and smothered in a roaring fire.

Jack yelped, nearly dropping his laptop. "Hey--_No!!_ You're gonna _hard-boil_ it at that temperature!"

Chase cast a loathsome glare back at him. "A _dragon's_ egg, Spicer? At the temperature _you_ supplied, the egg would have very well died of _hypothermia._"

Jack missed everything his idol said after '_dragon's_ egg'.

"It's a- it's a-a-a-a _d-d-dragon..._ egg!?!" He stuttered, nearly choking on the words.

"Can you think of any _other_ animal that lays," he motioned to the premature guest, "crimson eggs?"

"Well, no..." Jack trailed off. "But... that's the answer I was looking for on the Web a few minutes ago."

Chase rolled his eyes. "I figured as much. I will admit, I'm unsure of how you managed to steal one without being brutally _slaughtered,_ but I refuse to leave something of this importance in _your_ care, Spicer."

Phase #1: Denial

Jack was stark shocked. "Wh-what!? No-- you can't take my egg! It's mine! _I_ found it!"

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Just watch me, then."

Phase #2: Anger

Jack dropped his laptop on the ground (it wouldn't break; Jack had designed it well) and quickly cut between Chase and the egg with an angry look as the lord advanced on the treasure; a very bold move on Jack's part.

"Why?" The genus started wryly. "Because you don't think I have the responsibility, or because you don't want _me_ owning something as powerful as a dragon."

Then, Chase actually smirked. "Why not both? Even if you do manage to keep the egg alive long enough for it to hatch and eventually mature, it would be near impossible for you to control it. Dragons are naturally wild and unpredictable creatures; I should know," his smirk waned into a sneer. "If you can't even control _your own_ actions, Spicer, then exactly how do you hope to harness a dragon's power?"

Phase #3: Reasoning

"Maybe I _don't_ want to harness its power," Jack countered matter-of-factly, and crossed his arms. "Maybe I just think it would be cool to own a dragon. After all, the _first_ one I met doesn't seem to appreciate _any_ of my graciousely-offered help; maybe _this_ one will."

Jack was ready to get clobbered for his sudden ballsy attitude, and accepted it because he knew he was right. Every time Jack chose to help Chase out, he ended up thrown aside, crushed, or flat-out forgotten. Never _once_ had he received a 'thank you' or a 'well done' or heaven forbid a simple nod of gratitude.

However, Jack was not killed for his point; simply laughed at. "_This_ old dragon, apparently, doesn't _need_ to appreciate your blind generosity because despite everything, you _continue_ to aid me."

The shock and aggravated fury in those blood eyes was so intense that Chase half-expected something in the room to spontaneously combust - if not himself.

Phase #4: Depression

The anger didn't last very long at all. As quickly as he's reared up, Jack sighed raggedly and caught his head in his hands.

He spoke quietly. "Chase... please? I've only ever had _dinosaurs_ as pets before, and that wasn't even for a _day._ I just want an animal that I can truly call my own. Is... I mean, is that really too much to ask for?" He looked up at Chase then, pure longing in his eyes.

Chase paused, and considered it for a long time.

Phase #5: Acceptance

"If I don't take good care of it, Chase, then you can take it and I won't stop you."

It was the honesty in Jack's voice, the care not to own, but to raise and sustain the egg that made up his mind.

"Build the egg a new incubator. Keep the egg smothered in coal and blazing at _exactly_ five-hundred degrees, no more, no less. At the exact moment you see the first cracks in the egg's shell, turn the flame down fifty degrees, and fifty more for every new crack. _Do not_ let the temperature fall below three-hundred degrees, no matter how many cracks emerge."

Jack's eyes lit up, excited, but kept himself collected and nodded, noting each new fact. "Shall do, Chase!"

The warlord nodded and, satisfied, turned to leave.

"But, Chase," Jack called back. Chase stopped, listening.

"What do I do when the dragon hatches?"

"If it lives that long, then let me know immediately. We'll talk, then."

He was gone before Spicer could ask any further.

Jack hurried to his worktable, withdrew some blank blueprint sheets from the bottom drawers, and began mapping out the new incubator's design. He worked quickly and thoroughly, triple-checking each measurement and re-redoing each equation.

But the entire time, he was murmuring the _La Cucaracha_ tune.

"I got a dra-agon! I got a dra-agon!

I got a dragon egg today,

Soon it be ha-atchin', soon it be ha-atchin',

And Chase did not take it away!"

**... THE END?**


	2. Dragon Cracks

Let it be known to the world; Jack Spicer _was_ excited about his dragon egg.

It was just so damn _boring._

Jack had spent days sitting by the incubator, keeping the fire going and constantly checking the reading to confirm the temperature, and what did he have to show for it? Jack, that's what. He'd been patient; he played on his laptop, ate, slept, even pulled out his old Pokemon games on his old Nintendo DS, all by the egg's side.

_Nothing._

Until finally, after four excruciating days, the first crack emerged.

"Whoa!" Spicer fumbled and nearly dropped his DS in surprise. The crack just kinda... _popped_ there.

Quickly, his pulse jumping a few, he grabbled for the valve and turned the heat down to 450 degrees, just as Chase had instructed.

Jack sighed. "_Finally._ I was wondering when you'd crack under the heat." He chuckled at the cheesy wordplay. "Let's hope you make it, though. I don't want Chase to have any more of a reason to hate me than he already does."

Then, Jack's nose caught the terribly foul stench of B.O and sweat that could only mean a shower was in order.

"Jack-Bots B05 and B16!" He called.

The summoned robots hovered in line and saluted him loyally. **"Yes, Master Jack?"**

"Both of you keep a close eye on Eggy here while I shower up. You know what to do if it cracks again."

**"Yes, Master Jack,"** They both repeated and saluted him as he left.

Jack shook his legs as he walked, having not used them in days and wishing that they not give out on him now. He was usually very anal about his hygiene; how had he not smelt his own stench sooner?

Once inside the bathroom, Spicer stripped down and got the water going.

He didn't ever have to wait long for the shower to heat up; he'd designed it with a hi-tech heating device that could both boil water and freeze it in seconds if he wished it. Jack had designed the whole shower, actually. It was spacious, reverberating-acoustics resistant for his ears' sake, temperature-specific, with water streaming comfortably from nearly every angle, and the young genius had even installed within the walls an mp3 player with numerous speakers because let's face it; who doesn't love singing in the shower to SpongeBob SquarePants?

_"Every flower, every grain of sand, is reachin' out to shake my hand! It's the be-est da-ay e-eve-er, beeest daaay eeeveeer!!"_

Jack danced a bit with the joyous song as he scrubbed himself. It was a guilty pleasure – liking the SpongeBob SquarePants songs – but at least he knew it wouldn't escape his house. Who _knows_ what that kind of dirt would do to his evil rep! He'd never be taken seriously again!

Pretty soon, Spicer was squeaky clean. He reached beyond the shower for a towel, dried off his hair and skin, and stepped out.

Where he promptly shrieked and slipped onto his butt at seeing who was with him.

Back against the wall, Chase didn't even bother opening his eyes. He just snorted and shook his head. "_Really,_ Spicer?"

Jack gasped and covered himself fast. "Chase!! Man, look; you're my evil hero and I respect you, but _puh-lease!!_ You have _got_ to stop popping in on me like that before I crack my skull open."

"I will not go out of my way for _your_ clumsiness, Spicer."

_Ouch..._

"Now, exactly _who_ is watching the egg in your absence, worm?"

Jack suddenly leered. "Okay, first off; I dunno who 'Worm' is, but I'm not him, so _stop calling me that._ Secondly, two of my Jack-bots are watching it. They _are_ capable of doing the job right," he snapped as Chase was about to mock him in some way or other. "I'd been sitting by that little guy for _four_ days, Chase," Jack held up the number. "_Four days!_ I don't think I need to describe just how badly I stank!"

The Heylin sneered, "Please, don't."

A distinct _pop!_ echoed from the main workroom.

It was like Spicer was in the 100-meter dash and the gunshot had caught him completely off-guard. The genius scrambled onto his feet and was already stumbling out the door over his towel, shouting some crazy exclamation that Chase didn't quite catch.

The warlord was startled by the quick-draw reaction, but also glad that, for once, Jack didn't think about whether or not he looked foolish in front of the man. He watched as the teen slid out of sight around a corner, and had to chuckle. _The boy has some growing up to do, but it's good to know he's vigilant at the very least._

Jack skidded into the incubator's room, ran to it, grappled for the temperature knob, and gingerly set it to 400 degrees. He heaved, and gripped his throbbing heart. "Whew! Two cracks in one day! Eggy might hatch sooner than I thought."

He could feel Chase's presence suddenly behind him, leaning down to examine the young specimen.

"See, Chase? I told you I could do it. Nothing to worry about here!" Jack smiled brightly at the lord.

Chase didn't immediately respond, but instead smirked at the egg and straightened up. "Well, Spicer, you've surprised me. Whatever you've been doing, keep at it."

Jack straightened and saluted him. "Yes sir!"

He raised an eyebrow. "And one more thing; you might want some pants."

Jack blinked, then realized that his thighs _were_ feeling a breeze. The genius squawked and ducked behind the incubator.

Chase's roaring laughter seemed to echo as he teleported away.


	3. Dragon Babies

It wasn't the first time Jack had counted cracks in the world.

Most cracks were on hospital wing ceilings — he had the monks to thank for his weekly visits — and he'd count those because he had nothing else to do. Sometimes there were cracks on the walls at his high school, and he'd count those because he could care _less_ about the Persian Empire. God knew cracked paint could hold Jack's attention longer than World History.

But these cracks, Jack couldn't afford to _not_ count. These cracks told him how warm the egg needed to be, and falling short of attentive could lead to the _wrong_ temperature, and _that_ could be fatal. No no no, Spicer really had to count the cracks marking the dragon egg.

Today, Jack found himself in a very blank mood. Actually, 'blank mood' was an oxymoron; when Jack was blank, he _had_ no mood. He felt empty, but not in a sad, guilty sense. He felt collected, but not in a calm, in-control sense. Jack just felt... well, blank.

It sucked because when Jack felt blank, he didn't get anything productive done. _That_ was because he didn't want to _do_ anything! TV, gaming, building, eating, researching, evil-ranting; all things he loved to do, but felt apathy for now. He wanted to do absolutely _nothing._

So, Jack _made_ himself productive by doing nothing in front of the egg.

This is how Jack got to counting the cracks.

A third one had popped into place in this time. Jack hadn't flinched, but lifelessly turned the knob regulating the flow of oxygen in and out of the incubator. This decreased the flames size until it was supplying no less than 350 degrees.

Jack slouched in his chair, breathed deeply, and sighed. Gods, he _wished_ he didn't feel blank, but there was nothing he could do about it. Unless, of course...

"Blank again, Spicer?" A green hand rested on his shoulder.

The albino sighed again, inwardly unable to believe that the blank had nulled even the zeal he felt when Chase stopped by.

"Yeah. Trying to make myself somewhat useful 'til it blows over."

He was expecting Chase to mock him with that, something to the effect of, 'You're never useful; get over it.' That's why he was a bit shocked when the hand just patted his shoulder.

"Good. Keep at it, then," and the hand left him.

Jack paused. He didn't turn, but he didn't need to. "No insults this time?"

A snort. "No, Jack; I know when to kick a man when he's down. Now is not the time."

Then Jack turned. While the goth's face was neutral, the question was in his eyes.

Chase smirked and went to gaze at a few shelves full of Jack's latest first-draft inventions.

"I know it's not melancholy that clouds your mind, but you _are_ in a state where you cannot grasp an emotion. When this happens, anything that _does_ surface will be at its purest power since there's no previous emotion to inhibit it. Such is often the mind's way of 'requesting', so to speak, a heart-to-heart with your conscious mind."

Jack drank this in slowly, running it through the metaphor filters, and said, "You mean, my mind wants me to meditate?"

Chase's smile was dark, but definitely pleased. "Exactly, Jack."

Jack blinked, looked away, and turned back around. "I dunno... I've gotta watch the egg..."

A cup was abruptly lowered into his hands. Spicer took it, smelt it, took an experimental sip, and grimaced.

"I know that you, being the teenager you are, don't drink things like water anymore." He paused, and Jack reluctantly took another gulp. "That's why you will start now."

Jack amazingly didn't complain; the dragon lord was impressed with the boy's newfound maturity.

"Don't act like it's a death sentence. It _will_ help you stay awake longer."

"Yeah, yeah... doesn't mean I have to like it," the goth took another gulp, swallowing quickly so his tongue wouldn't hold the taste long.

They were quiet for a long time. The incubator's crackling fire was pleasant background noise to Jack as he tried the requested inner thinking.

Abruptly, his meditating brought something odd to his attention.

He turned around, and Chase met his gaze calmly. "Why are you here, helping me? I thought you were making me handle Eggy on my own."

A cunning smile creased his lips, as if he'd expected that very question. "I am making you handle the majority of the work, Spicer, but even _I_ know you're not ready for the full-time job of mothering a dragon egg. Consider my being here nothing but moral support."

Jack seemed to deflate at that reason, but then his eyes widened and he shot his idol an incredulous glare.

"Chase, I am _not_ 'mothering' Eggy! Me and my Y-Chromosome forbid it!!"

Chase launched into a full laughing fit.

"I've no doubt about your 'Y-Chromosome', Jack," he grinned at the scowling youth, highly amused. "Nevertheless, if you are the one looking after and supplying heat for the egg, then yes; you are definitely its 'mother'."

"Then what does that make you; the _father?_"

If Chase had been drinking his soup, it would've spewed all over Jack and the incubator.

"I _beg_ your pardon..." The lord questioned suspiciously, angrily.

"It's not that far-fetched, you know," Spicer stated frankly, unaffected by the older man's sudden seething demeanor, "I mean, isn't it the father's duty to stick by the mom while she's with child? He helps her cope with the pain, checks on her to make sure everything is okay," he then held up the cup, "And gives her whatever her body needs to keep going."

Jack brought the cup to his lips and downed the last of the water. He then met Chase's agitated gaze again.

"Face it, Chase: yeerrrrrrr the daddy!"

The warrior snorted. "One scenario I would prefer _not_ to have lingering in my head for the next week, thank you."

It was Jack's turn to laugh, then. "Seriously, though; could you _imagine_ me sitting in a rocking chair with, like, three little dragon babies in my lap?"

Chase actually smirked at the thought and gave Jack a sideways glance. "You know..."

_Pop!_

Jack spun back towards the incubator and, without even looking at the egg, readjusted the dial. Then he turned back to Chase.

But Chase had abandoned whatever thought crossed his mind and was gazing past Jack with a raised brow. Jack was worried at first, but then a smile creased the beautiful man's face.

Jack smiled back and stretched, letting his pride show a bit. "_Yeah,_ Eggy's pretty healthy–"

Chase shook his head, the smile unfaltering, the gaze unwavering. "You'll need a _new_ name for him now, Jack."

It only took a second for those maroon eyes to widen, to _glisten_ with understanding and excitement.

The gothic followed his lord's eyes into the incubator where, sitting in a pile of crimson, broken eggshells and cooing, was a red, baby dragon.

Jack was speechless, but not frozen. He opened the incubator - looking to Chase first to make sure it was alright and receiving a pleased nod - and gingerly, oh-so-gently cradled the baby and plucked it from the fire (Jack was grateful that he'd modified his gloves with fire- and heat-proof fabric). In Spicer's cupped hands, the baby cooed happily and scurried in little circles. When Jack brought the little thing to his chest, it snuggled up to him and chirped a chirp so happy, even Chase couldn't help his evil, Heylin heart softening, if only fleetingly.

Jack smiled a goofy smile and carefully rubbed the top of its head with one finger. It _really_ liked that.

"I'm gonna call you... Mmm... Tyke, 'cuz your _so_ cute!"

The dragon lord snorted, face-palmed, but watching through parted fingers how the creature warmed up to Jack and trusted him so quickly, Chase Young genuinely smiled.


	4. Dragon Hatchlings

"... _cannot_ understand a single one of his Southern phrases. ... And see her? She's Kimiko; the Dragon of Fire. I used to have a thing for her, but something about having every last bone in my body obliterated in her fiery rage just turns me off. ... That little bald guy is Omi; the Dragon of Water. Li'l dude may be suckish with slang, but he's the only one with any real, moral fiber. I bet the only reason I'm not dead yet is thanks to him."

Spicer was laying back on his bed, surrounded by mussed photo books. Many pictures had been yanked from their plastic sleeves and arranged, stacked into a sort of biographical slideshow for his youngest. When Tyke had curled up on his chest so willingly, Jack had bent his left leg up and crossed the other over so the ankle rested on his knee. His guessed his new motherly-conscience felt that this closed position was more shielding.

Jack slid the top photo onto the bottom, then lowered the new photo so Tyke could see.

"That's Raimundo; he's the Dragon of Wind, and _technically_ the monks' leader. I don't like him because he acts on impulse – a bullying impulse, might I add – which gets me punched and tossed around worse than a volley ball. I think Omi's ego is rubbing off on him too, because he gets cockier all the time."

Tyke's beady black eyes opened and studied at the picture. Jack had quickly noticed that Tyke didn't look at photo paper with a glazed-over glance like most animals, but instead with a naïve curiosity at what was actually _in_ the photograph. That this little dragon was somewhat intelligent _really_ pleased him.

Tyke made a high-pitched cry and spat a puff of smoke at Raimundo's picture. Jack laughed, but had to stifle it because Tyke didn't appreciate the bouncing.

"You're funny, Tyke; just as long as you don't ever _actually_ spew spoke at him."

Tyke purred and wiggled back into a warm, cozy ball.

Jack's head tilted to the side, studying the baby. Then he put the pictures aside and swung an arm behind his head. The other hand gently laid over Tyke as a blanket, which earned a pleased chirp from him.

The teen grinned at the ceiling. Being a mom wasn't _so_ bad. At least, Jack didn't know what _his_ mom was bitching about. It was nice to have a little guy curl up near you after a hard day's work.

It wasn't long before Jack and Tyke dozed off.

I*~*I—I*~*I

"Good lord, I'm going to puke!"

Chase sneered and waved his Eye-Spy Orb away. "Then you'd better not get anything on me or my floor, woman."

"A _baby dragon!_ In _Jack Spicer's_ care!" Wuya shouted. "Have you gone _mad,_ Chase?"

"Frankly, Wuya, after having to put up with your incessant rants and advances for five months, who _wouldn't_ go a little crazy?"

The witch scowled and stomped her foot. "Chase, you know what that—"

"Yes, Of _course_ I know what that hatchling will become."

"And you know that he will be in _complete control_ of it?"

"No, I _don't_ know. Which is why I let him keep the egg; to see if Spicer has the ability to take care of something so delicate, intelligent, and eventually deadly."

"But _Chase,_ this is Jack Spicer we're talking about! He's a buffoon of the lowest intelligence! Why would you waste such power on _him?_"

"As opposed to what, Wuya? Wasting that dragon on _you?_"

The witch balked and snarled, but said nothing.

"As for Jack's intelligence, he is not as idiotic as you think. The boy is a technological genius; he can do extraordinary things when given the right tools. What he lacks is common sense."

"And you still think he will be able to raise this hatchling?"

"I _hope,_ Wuya. I don't think he will, but I hope."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Such a waste."

Something in his mind snapped abruptly and he glared at her with fury brewing in the depths.

"If I want your thoughts on my decisions, Wuya, I'll ask you for them. Other than that, do me and my warriors a favor and _shut up._"

Wuya balked again and considered snapping at him, but she then saw the liquid fire boiling in his eyes. His inner dragon was coming close to the surface. That alone was what made Wuya bite her tongue.

Before her eyes flashed white and her hair reared up. "Aaaaah! A new Shen Gong Wu has just _revealed_ itself!"

Chase's anger subsided just enough for him to raise an eyebrow.

"The Silver Kudzu," the witch hissed in her trance. "Gives one the ability to speed up time, but only time surrounding certain objects."

"An isolated time warp... like the Golden Finger..." Chase mused. A smirk creased his lips. "I remember the Silver Kudzu now."

Wuya's sixth sense subsided, but she did not. "We must hurry, Chase! We don't want the monks getting to this Shen Gong Wu!"

"'We?' _You're_ not going anywhere, Wuya."

She growled at him, but could do no more than that.

Chase just smirked and strode past her. "I will go for the fight, and if you're good while I'm gone I _may_ bring you back the Silver Kudzu."

"Really?"

"_Only_ if you behave yourself. And bribing my crows to be quiet with grapes won't work; you should know me better than that."

She scowled. "You still remember that."

"I'm Chase Young. I don't forget."

She stuck out her tongue, but only because she knew he couldn't see. When he teleported away, the witch huffed and sat on the top step of his Throne level.

"If only I could get out of this place, I could find a way to get that hatchling away from Jack. Chase _knows_ that he's wasting that power. It would be so much better if someone like me had that dragon."

Silently, she wished _Chase_ could be her dragon. It wasn't entirely impossible; with some skilled seduction, she could win any man over, really. But Chase was a wild dragon. No amount of power could tame him, and Wuya's inner woman loved that. Her inner witch, however, hungered for power, and that power could only be had if she stole Jack's dragon hatchling.

A crow landed on the step beside her, pretending to pay her no mind.

Wuya narrowed her eyes at it. "What are you looking at?"

It cawed at her and batted its wings.

_If I'm going to get out of here, I can't let any of his minions know what I'm up to. I'll have to use stealth._


End file.
